


Dear Voldemort

by Akumzae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depressed Harry Potter, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Letter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 06:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumzae/pseuds/Akumzae
Summary: Harry writes a final letter of surrender to Voldemort, telling him of his life thwarting death. For it's time for him to greet Death like an old friend, for he would go with him gladly.





	Dear Voldemort

Dear Voldemort, 

I know it may seem like an odd thing that I am writing to you, but I assure you I have good reason. I surrender, am giving up the war, throwing down the baton if you will. On one condition; you must read this letter and you must listen. 

He told me about you, Dumbledore that is. Had been planning to do it the coming year but the situation has changed hasn’t it? A lot of things changed that night in the ministry. Your recent sanity for starters and the prophecy. There is a change coming, you can smell it. Get it. Cause of the whole you having a nose now thing? I’m sorry that was a bad joke, but I suppose since I am surrendering the war to you on the simple terms of a letter I suppose listening to a few bad jokes on your behalf is the least you can do. I do like the new hair though. Very stylish. 

Either way, I know all about your story now, how you were once a boy named Tom who grew up abused at an orphanage in the midst of war, of how Dumbledore refused to treat you with kindness overs suspicion. You were partially right you know, about what you said my first year, about how we are alike. I think once we were. Back when you were Tom Marvolo Riddle. Before Voldemort. Voldemort, flight from death. We have both been ruled by death out whole lives Tom, and as alike as that makes us it also tears a gaping distance between us. You run from death Vol-de-mort. I am a descendant of Ignotus Peverell and we greet death with open arms.

I remember as a child of three years of age and wishing that I would die. I was not yet at an age that I even understood death was, understood the implications of it. I just remember my Aunt screaming at me that she wished I was dead alongside my stupid mother and father, screaming that she didn’t want me. I remember thinking that I agreed. I wanted to be with my mother. I wanted to be with my father. Whatever took them away from this place, I wanted it too. 

I remember a year or so later, holding a stray cat I had befriended in my arms as it bled to death from where Dudley at thrown rocks at it for entertainment. I saw it die. It was so unloved its whole street cat life, in so much pain in yowled and yowled until it didn’t. Death made it peaceful. I looked at that cat in my arms and I wished it had been me instead. It was a purely selfish thought. 

I remember going to kindergarten alongside Dudley and hearing about a man in the sky and a kingdom where you would be eternally happy.  
I remember putting wiggling my hand in the air and asking how I could get to this Heaven place. I remember my teacher looking at me with frenzied eyes as she said that we must so as God willed and to follow the bible so that when we died we would meet our family again in Heaven. I remember laughing and asking how I could die then. 

I remember meeting you. That first year at Hogwarts when you were just a wraith drinking unicorn blood and living as a parasite on the back of my defence teacher head. I remember everyone saying why. How could someone be so desperate to be alive that they would live a cursed life, to take such desperate measures to stay alive?  
I already lived a cursed life Voldemort, it is not worth it and yet I remember thinking why as well. Why would anyone want to stop themselves from dying, not when they were so, so close?  
I remember reaching out toward Quirrell, to you and to death with open arms and I remember it burning. Watching my death crumble as the literal ashes between my fingers. 

I remember my second year with Lockhart and a snake of death.  
I remember being faced with a choice. A basilisk that would kill swiftly and painlessly with a simple look or Lockhart who would erase all the memories that I had been haunted with. It would solve my problems, wouldn’t it? I would be blank, innocent and free from the war and the pain. Yet I would still be alive. It was the alternative to death to my problems and yet when I was faced with that choice, I slide straight down that hole to where the death snake would be. Perhaps I was just curious about its eyes and yet I couldn’t see them for there was a girl I had to save from you, Tom. Because she did not wish for death and those who do not wish no not deserve. So, I killed your soul and I killed the snake.  
I remember how joyfully painful it was when its venom seared by blood.  
I remember how I smiled through my sorrow when a phoenix healed my arm. 

I remember Sirius dying. How I screamed and felt this stupid little flame of hope get drenched by the storm. I remember running for him as he fell through that veil and Lupin holding me back. He told me Sirius was gone, dead, I couldn’t save him. I wasn’t trying to save him, I just wanted to follow him. A veil of death. A little more obvious than I had previously invented, but grief and a hero complex would have excused it. 

I remember coming home, to the Dursleys who looked so gleeful about Sirius death, that I long longer had my dark guardian at my shoulder. The only person who cared for me, the mass murderer he was, was dead. I remember thinking that though I had sprinted towards death, not simply opened my arms to it, it was still so far from my reach.  
I remember thinking that I had to stop seeking death out.  
I remember thinking that death had to come to me. 

Today I am remembering all these things for you as a goodbye of sorts.  
My presence will not be missed among the living, but I know at least you will care for my death. That you at least will hold a celebration at my passing. It is hard, after all, to fight a war without your prophesied saviour no?  
So I suppose this is goodbye.  
I hope you will learn not to fear Death, Dark Lord.  
Thank you, for knowing I was flawed.

Farwell old friend,  
Harry James Potter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the read! Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought.


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